


O Come, All Ye Clumsy Idiots

by rohkeutta



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Christmas, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Humor, Hugs, M/M, Reunions, Sassy Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12885960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohkeutta/pseuds/rohkeutta
Summary: “How the hell did you break your leg anyway?” Bucky asks, his voice a little weak with the happy cry that’s threatening to spill out. “They told me just that it wasn’t in combat.”Steve laughs, but it’s definitely wet and shaky. “I slipped,” he says. “On a puddle of sweat.”“What,”Bucky says, the urge to cry evaporating.





	O Come, All Ye Clumsy Idiots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haspel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haspel/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [哦，让傻X来得更猛烈些吧！](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119915) by [flyingmax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingmax/pseuds/flyingmax)



> This is my third and last short ficlet for Fandom Loves Puerto Rico, written for haspel! Thank you so much for bidding and donating!
> 
> Thanks to Fox for test read and title approval, and to Meg for a spag sweep!

“What,” Bucky says flatly, crossing his arms, “the  _ fuck?” _

Steve winces. It looks painful around the giant yellowing bruise he’s sporting on his cheekbone. The airport employee accompanying him snorts, but quickly hides his mouth behind his hand when Bucky glares at him.

“Um,” Steve says and does a dorky little wave. “Hi, baby?”

“Hi, you fucking dumbass,” Bucky says, and glares at the old lady in fur coat who gives him the stink-eye for swearing at an injured man. Steve’s in the airport wheelchair because he’s an idiot with a broken leg, and as a loved one it’s Bucky’s role to be mad, so get lost, Cruella de Vil _._ “Just for the record, getting you home in a wheelchair isn’t what I signed up for when I agreed to be the military husband. What the hell, Steve?”

“Sorry,” Steve offers, looking sheepish. “I’d say that you should see the other guy, but it’s only me.” Steve’s in civilian clothes, his hair is a mess and he’s sporting a stubble that’s fighting really hard for its right to be called a beard, and Bucky would  _ really _ like to be angry at him for a little longer. 

But it’s been seven months since he last saw Steve, and he’s missed Steve’s stupid fucking face like crazy. Besides, Steve breaking his leg means that he’s gonna be home for Christmas unlike originally planned, and Bucky’s cheesy enough to feel overwhelmingly glad for it.

“You’re the only one I would bother seeing, anyway,” Bucky says. “Get up and give me a goddamn hug, Rogers.”

Steve grins, bright and a little wobbly around the edges, and something tight in Bucky’s chest loosens up for the first time since he saw Steve off to his tour. Steve gets carefully up from the wheelchair, balancing on his uninjured leg and the cast. When he opens his arms, Bucky dives into them, pushing his hands under Steve’s coat to get a good hold around his torso and squeeze like his life depended on it.

Steve smells like airplane air and cheap deodorant, and he’s wearing the sweater Bucky’s mom gave him for Christmas last year, a camel-colored cashmere beauty that feels incredibly soft under Bucky’s cheek when he tucks his face against Steve’s neck. Steve’s gripping him and the back of his coat with both hands like he’s trying to glue them together.

Steve’s breath hitches and he exhales shakily, pushing his cheek against Bucky’s hair. There are definitely tears burning behind Bucky’s eyes as well, and some fucker close by has  _ Jingle Bells _ as their ringtone, but Bucky couldn’t care less. Steve’s home, alive and relatively whole, and Bucky’s gonna get to keep him now, wake up to him instead of an empty bed.

“How the hell did you break your leg anyway?” Bucky asks, his voice a little weak with the happy cry that’s threatening to spill out. “They told me just that it wasn’t in combat.”

Steve laughs, but it’s definitely wet and shaky. “I slipped,” he says. “On a puddle of sweat.”

_ “What,”  _ Bucky says, the urge to cry evaporating.

Steve presses his cheek firmer against Bucky’s hair, turning his face just slightly to hide his nose in the side braid Bucky’s sporting. “I was sparring with Sam,” he says. “I didn’t block his jab well enough, so he accidentally full-on punched me in the face. I took a step backwards and slipped.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky says. “You fucking  _ klutz.” _

“Hey, asshole,” Steve says, “it was a first-class ticket to home for Christmas.”

“I know,” Bucky replies, rubbing his cheek against Steve's sweater just a bit. It feels incredible to be close to Steve again. “I love you. You’re lucky I didn’t have time to send your package yet, I can just re-wrap the woolen socks and my homemade porn and stuff them into your stocking.”

“I’ll show you how to stuff a damn stocking,” Steve says, and somewhere behind him the airport employee loses his shit. “Love you too, Buck.”

Bucky leans back enough that he can reach Steve’s mouth, and then they’re kissing grossly in the arrival hall like they’re in one of the sappy Christmas movies Bucky loves. Cruella de Vil sniffs disapprovingly, and Bucky would flip her off if his hands weren’t tucked under Steve’s coat.

Steve does it for him. There’s a reason why he’s the love of Bucky’s life.

“I want a gingerbread latte,” is the first thing Steve says when they manage to detach. “And fries, and maybe a nap. Take me home, Barnes.”

“Yeah, hon,” Bucky says, smiling like a loon. “Let’s go.”

“Um,” the airport employee says. When Bucky looks at him over Steve’s shoulder, he’s grinning from ear to ear and pointing at Steve’s duffel bag on his shoulder. “Do you want your bag before you go, sir? And your crutches?”

“Okay,” Bucky amends, pulling back and regretting every second he has to spend in the cruel world outside Steve’s coat. “Get the crutches, I’ll go fetch your damn food order when we get home.”

“Merry Christmas in advance,” the employee wishes as he hands the bag to Bucky. 

“Thanks, pal,” Bucky says and hoists the bag on his own shoulder. “You too.” Then he puts his hand on Steve’s lower back, and they start to limp towards the car park. Steve’s almost exaggeratingly careful with the crutches, and very warm under Bucky’s palm.

Somewhere the Jingle Bells ringtone starts again, and Bucky grins, helplessly happy.

Damn right it’s gonna be merry.

**Author's Note:**

> Ho ho ho bitches, my tumblr is [here](http://rohkeutta.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Oh Come, All Ye Clumsy Idiots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13036947) by [rohkeutta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohkeutta/pseuds/rohkeutta), [thatsmysecret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsmysecret/pseuds/thatsmysecret)




End file.
